<h2><SPAN name="chap06"></SPAN>A BANQUET<br/> ONE MEMORY FROM SOCRATES</h2>
<p class="poem">
After the song the love, and after the love the play,<br/>
Flute girl and pretty boy blowing<br/>
Bubbles of sparkling<br/>
Wine into darkling<br/>
Beards of a former austerity, stern even now, but fast growing<br/>
Foolish, with less of a stately<br/>
Reserve that held them sedately.<br/>
Oh Zeus, what a sight! With the wine dripping off it,<br/>
The grin of an ass on a bald-pated prophet.<br/>
<br/>
After the feast the night, and after the night the day,<br/>
Fool and philosopher stirring<br/>
With the day dawning,<br/>
Stretching and yawning,<br/>
While in each wine-throbbing, desolate brain is the wheeling and whirring<br/>
Of thousands of bats, that the slaking<br/>
Of throats will not hinder from aching,<br/>
No wine for the brow that is beating to bursting,<br/>
But water at morning is quench for the thirsting!<br/></p>
<p class="left">
ERNEST BENSHIMOL</p>
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